There is a person that I love, but I am not sure how to tell them.
There is a person that I love, and I am not sure how to tell them.
They are someone I admire, constantly striving to be a better person. They smile at the cashier and ask in earnest how they’re doing. They work hard to be considerate of other people. They are smart, but are still learning so much. They are creative and hard-working and open.
There is a person that I love, but they are not perfect.
Sometimes they get lost in their own thoughts and miss the obvious. Sometimes they act like people should automatically know what their expectations are. Sometimes they lose their patience. Often, they miss opportunities for kindness and sometimes are even a little selfish.
There is a person that I love, but they don’t always know their worth.
They get down sometimes, although they try not to show it. They might focus on their faults and need reminders of their strengths. They extend grace and forgiveness, often more than is wise. They occasionally fall into unhealthy relationships. They try to shine God’s love, but forget to reflect it on themselves.
There is a person that I love, but I am afraid it would be awkward to tell them.
Then again, maybe that isn’t important. Maybe what really matters is that they get to know how I feel. Maybe they have days when knowing I care could make all the difference in the world. And it might be awkward, it might come out wrong, people might misconstrue. It may cause issues with those who don’t understand. But they should know. They deserve to know. And so I’ll start with this:
Hello, Me. You matter. You are a glowing creation of God, a being of purpose and wonder. I am happy you’re here. I love you.
The glance, the look, the smile
Hesitation, approach, question
Acquiesce, touch hands, lead out
The rhythm, the steps, the sway
Apart, together, human harmony
Drum beats, heart beats, budding hope
Joy in moments, moments of wonder, wonderful uncertainty
Gazing eyes, curving lips, hands on hips
Courage gathered, breath held, head tips
The spark, the light, the fireworks
Exploding on the dance floor
Charcoal clouds scud across
An ocean of sky,
A thread of song running
The pictures in my mind,
An unintended soundtrack
Rising and falling
To a disparate rhythm-
Full of its own words
Stories to tell in notes
And tunes and cymbals clashing
As I fall deeper in,
And the realities of
Until a warm touch
On my shoulder
Brings me out of my reveries,
Waking to the sun’s caress
Reaching through aged clouds,
Bidding me arise, awake,
Return from mushroom rings and
Flaming kings and
Queens of beauty bright.
Disconcerted, I raise my head,
Blink in unexpected light,
To this strange and
I see the circle, the ripples going out, ever expanding.
My child walking a similar path. The various “extra” siblings I brought into her life (and the ones she brought into mine). I see the love she holds, the laughter, the strength. I watch as her heart takes in a young child, readily being second mother to him, cuddling, loving, playing, teaching. I see how naturally it comes to her, how in love with this child she already is. I watch also as her belly grows, a new life, wished and worked into being with God’s grace, and hear her hopes and plans and dreams. I feel the kicks, dream the dreams, wait with anticipation. I take to my heart her new child, and the coming baby; I read her favorite stories to them, and give what I hope is another stronghold for both. I watch as she lives a lesson learned throughout life, a lesson taught to me by my mother: Every child deserves to be safe, and to be loved, and to laugh. We hold this candle in the window for the child who may need it to light the way, however briefly and for whatever reason.
Don’t fear, little ones. The road is hard, but the path is lit by love.
The willow, slender as it is,
The alder branch a weak thing
A drop of water no threat
until the flood
And the feathered fledgling
but a glimpse of freedom’s flight
The infant’s cry is a prelude
to life’s aria
Child’s tears the lessons
to wisdom’s strength
Parent’s comfort the roots
of flowered hope
And quiet grace the uplift
for heart’s soaring journey.